All souls are refugees
Seeking a greater life, a higher purpose,
Lost in the wanderings
Of their own internal wars
Who dares love them?
Who dares turn them away?
Our hardened hearts
Can’t see their exiled souls
Our brothers and sisters of the light
We see only fear and turn away,
Unwilling or unable to accept
The refugee of our own being
What if God is in their skin?
What if God is in the terror?
Maybe divinity is found not in walls
Or even prayers,
But in the fear that we admonish,
The shame we drive away like a mirror
What if God is in all the places and people
We find uncomfortable or unworthy
In the vast fearful parts of our hearts
Where we shut out the light?
And if that’s where our true divinity lies,
Then how will we ever see the truth?
And will we forever slam the door
On the refugee soul?